Bleachymon
by Sakiku
Summary: Ichigo wakes up in an unknown location. The more he discovers, the more he realizes this can only be a hallucination from his cracked subconscious: he's caught in a place where his childhood trauma of Pokemon has changed the world into something horrible!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Ichigo gets thrown into a seriously cracky world that resembles the pokemon world of all things. Only with Bleach characters instead of pokemon. So beware the copious amounts of insanity running rampant.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach and I don't own Pokemon. Neither do I make money from any of this.

**A/N:** This idea was spawned while RPing with Cat Streaked By Rain. All Bleach characters being turned into chibi-versions of themselves and multiplied so that they can be caught by fan-girls and their spirit-balls. This doesn't really have a plot, and I can't promise fast updates. It's taken me about three weeks to churn out a measly 8 pages, so don't expect any miracles from me…

That said, enjoy.

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Bleachymon**

Ichigo rolled over and groaned. What the hell had hit him?

He blinked his eyes and stared at the green grass blades tickling his nose. Wait a minute. Hadn't he just been involved in a fight with an Arrancar? Somewhere in Hueco Mundo? So what the hell was he doing lying on _grass_?

Had he finally managed to kick the bucket? But he didn't feel very dead, only sore all over. Then again, he had met enough shinigami to know that the dead, too, could feel like shit.

Where was he? He sat up and looked around. Grass, trees, grass, more trees, and yet again more grass. And a few measly flowers, but they didn't count on the larger scale of things. Had he woken in the outskirts of Rukongai?

He looked down on himself. He was clad in his shinigami clothes, and a shrug of his shoulders told him that Zangetsu was still with him, slung across his back. At least dying, or whatever had happened to him, hadn't parted him from his soul slayer.

With a sigh, he got up and started walking in a random direction. He had no idea where he was, and he couldn't feel any noteworthy concentration of spirit power, so he didn't know what to do to reach seireitei and his friends. The best he could do was keep walking and hope he found someone to explain to him what in the world was going on.

Irritably, he brushed the foliage aside and squeezed himself through branches and shrubbery that probably hadn't seen a human for centuries. Twigs regularly threatened to snatch his hair, and more than once Zangetsu caught on things. One especially malicious patch of thorny vines snatched at the loose folds of his hakama, and it was a pain in the ass to untangle himself from the bramble.

When Ichigo finally emerged from the trees and reached something that might be considered a path, his face was set in a permanent scowl, and his eyebrows were drawn so far together that they almost merged into one. Brushing the dirt off his black clothes, he looked left and right. Both directions looked equally good, so he shrugged and turned to his left. This was a path, and it had to lead somewhere. Hopefully somewhere where there were other humans so that he could ask for directions to seireitei.

He had been walking for a couple of hours he guessed, judging by the way the sun had wandered across the sky, and the scenery hadn't changed much. There were still trees, and there was still grass, and he still hadn't seen another human soul.

Then suddenly he heard a childish voice shout from further down the path, "Ichigooo! Come back here, Ichigooo!"

Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks, looking for who might have been calling him. He didn't recognize the voice, but apparently they knew him and were expecting him to return. To where?

Before he could decide on what to do, a soccerball-sized blur shot out of the foliage straight towards him, and he reflexively caught it. "Ichi, ichi?"

Ichigo froze. Had that soccer ball just _talked_? Also, it was a mightily strange soccer ball, with orange… fur covering parts of it, and the other parts feeling _warm_ and _skin-like_. With growing horror, he turned the soccer ball around and nearly dropped it in shock. It had a face and the fur wasn't fur but hair, and holy shit, it had just _moved_!

Large brown eyes stared up at him, blinked a few times, and then closed in upside-down U's of happiness before snuggling into Ichigo's clothes. "Ichi ichiiii!"

And holy shit, it _talked_!

"Ichigo! Where are you?" The childish voice sounded closer now, and Ichigo could hear the panicked and weepy undertone, the one where it was sure that a tear-fest was just about to erupt.

Ichigo still didn't know who that was, but he really didn't want to deal with crying little brats, so he hollered back. "I'm here!"

The soccerball-head in his arms tilted and looked up at Ichigo, curiosity in its expression. "Ichi?"

"Oh, shut up," Ichigo grumbled but didn't throw the strange creature – thing? – away. Didn't it know how to say anything but 'ichi'? That was getting repetitive. Even Furbys, the monstrous little owl-like creatures Yuzu had been so fond of a couple of years ago, had a larger vocabulary.

Running footsteps came closer, and Ichigo could hear someone panting harshly while sniffling. Finally, a boy came round the bend in the path and halted abruptly when seeing Ichigo. Instead of doing anything sane though, the little twerp suddenly pointed his finger at Ichigo in a challenging way and started shouting, "Give me back my Ichigo, you thief! You are trying to challenge me, the great Daisuke-sama? I warn you, I'm the best trainer in all of Karakura!"

Ichigo couldn't help but blink at 'the great Daisuke-sama'. The brat looked like he wasn't out of elementary school yet, wearing hip and trendy clothes that might be considered normal for the human world but definitely not for anywhere in Soul Society, and Ichigo was sure he had never seen that combination of dark green hair and childishly determined face before. And apparently, the brat had some kind of superiority complex and was an escapee from the local mental ward. Did he really think that Ichigo belonged to him, and that the strange creature had stolen him away?

"_Your_ Ichigo? I don't even know you." Ichigo asked bemusedly, and the head in his arms bounced up and down, tweeting its annoyingly high-pitched 'Ichi, ichi'.

That apparently was the wrong thing to say, because the brat exploded in rage. "Alright, let's do it the hard way!" He pulled out a tennis-sized ball from one of his pockets and threw it onto the ground between himself and Ichigo. "Uryuu! I choose you!"

Ichigo, who had jumped several meters back when the tennis-ball-thingy had spat out some electricity, almost fell over in shock. The electricity solidified into a soccerball-sized shape, and then suddenly, there was another head-creature on the ground. And that bodiless head had an astonishing resemblance to Ishida – same hairstyle, same glasses, same scowl. Only, everything was a lot cuter and a lot rounder and a lot more child-like.

"Ryuu?" it asked, and Ichigo stared in horror at the chibi-fied rendition of Ishida's expression of disdain. Hell, that _thing_ even managed to get the light to reflect from its glasses the same way Ishida always did.

Fortunately, or not so fortunately, Ichigo was shocked out of his horrified fascination by 'the Great Daisuke-sama's' voice. "Uryuu, Reiatsu Arrow! Let's show that guy not to mess with us!"

Ichigo had a bad feeling what that could mean. Reiatsu Arrows were Ishida's basic weapon, so was this caricature going to imitate it?

And indeed, there was a miniature Quincy bow materializing in front of the head-creature, which revealed that it _did_ have arms. Short and stubby ones that didn't look so much like arms than blunted tentacles with no bones and no joints and no hands. And they grew out of the sides around the chin region, much too short to touch its arms together in front of its head.

It went through the motions of drawing a bow though, and despite not touching the blue energy hovering in front of it, it followed the gestures. A Quincy arrow appeared, was pulled back together with the bow string, and then was released at Ichigo. "Uryuuuuuu!"

Ichigo almost didn't move out of the chopstick-sized projectile's way in time because he was too stunned. Hysterical laughter was bubbling in the back of his throat at the sheer madness of the situation. Nope, he was quite sure he wasn't dead – instead, he must have turned insane when he hadn't been looking. That was the only explanation for those bizarre events. Ichigo had lost his mind, and now was caught in a delusional world of his own making.

"Again, Uryuu! We'll get him!" The boy stood back with his hands aggressively at his waist, apparently being content to let the head-creature do all the work for him. That was the brat's idea of a fight?

Absentmindedly, Ichigo moved out of the way of more energy arrows, and contemplated how in the world his mind could think of something so ridiculous. The head-creature's rendition of Ishida's attack was nothing short of laughable, not only being severely undersized, but also underpowered with low accuracy, low speed, and a miserable fire rate. Heck, it took the thing nearly three seconds to create another arrow and two more seconds to aim. He imagined the real Ishida trying that toothpick-attack against some hollow, and he almost broke down laughing.

Apparently, a big part of this world had been created by his sense of humor.

The boy though didn't seem to appreciate the hilarity of the situation. "Uryuu! Flying tackle!"

And, yes, the name said it all. The thing launched itself at Ichigo, who caught it with the effortless grace of someone used to playing soccer quite often. Ichigo tucked it under his arm, and despite its angry rattles and protests of 'Ryuu, ryuu, Uryuuuuu!' it didn't take much strength to keep it in place. The other head-thingy that was still perched on Ichigo's other forearm and snuggled against his gi, bounced up and down happily, chanting 'Ichi, ichi, chiii!' over and over again. The racket the two things made was deafening.

Apparently, the brat hadn't expected that reaction because he stood there and gaped at Ichigo. "B-b-but, you can't do that! T-that's my Uryuu! And my Ichigo! G-give them back!"

Ichigo froze. Had the brat just…

If Ichigo had had a free hand, he would have palmed his forehead. He should have seen the resemblance sooner. The orange hair, the spiky style, the brown eyes, and the maddening repetitions of 'Ichi'. That head-creature he had caught first apparently was what the boy called his Ichigo. Ichigo just really, really hoped that the thing wasn't as sucky as Ishida's double, but somehow he doubted that. How in the world could a chibified rendition of himself be anywhere short of laughable? For that matter – since when did Ichigo bounce around happily and let other people fight for him?

"Let me get this straight," he drawled. "This," he shrugged the arm holding the orange-haired head-thing, "is your Ichigo. And you thought I stole him from you, so you sent Uryuu to attack me in the hopes of getting him back?"

"They're my Bleachymons, so give them back!" The boy stomped his foot on the ground and crossed his arms.

Ichigo blinked. "Bleachymon?" That almost sounded like…

Oh no. Oh, hell no.

Now he knew that he had really, certifiably gone round the bend. Apparently those few times he had watched Pokemon had come back to bite him in the ass. Hard. All signs pointed towards that: the monotonous repetition of names, the ridiculous attacks, the cute appearance (if a bodiless head could be called cute), even the Daisuke-brat and his attitude. He was almost like a carbon copy of Ash Ketchum. Not his looks, but his character.

Ichigo groaned. "Please, don't tell me that there are more of those… Bleachymons out there?"

His hopeful expression though was sorely disappointed when the boy's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Oh, yeah, there are tons of Bleachymons out there, and some are really strong! Like Shigekuni, or Stark, but you don't find those here in Karakura…" The boy's expression fell briefly before brightening yet again. "But I'm gonna be the greatest trainer ever, and I'm gonna catch them all! That's why I got myself an Ichigo, you know? When he evolves to Vaizard-Bankai-Ichigo, he's gonna be the strongest Bleachymon ever!"

_Vaizard-Bankai-Ichigo_? His subconsciousness really did have an annoying sense of humor. That was pretty much what Ichigo would describe himself as, so did that mean that he ranked at about the same level of the power balances in this crazy world?

For that matter – he had suddenly a horrible suspicion. "Hey, brat, do you have a… Bleachydex, or something like that?" If this was his mind's idea of mixing Pokemon with the real world, there had to be some equivalent to the Pokedex.

And, indeed, the twerp magicked some tazer-datapad-looking cross out of his hip pouch, despite his protests that he wasn't a brat.

"Can you point that scanner at me and see what kind of reading you get?" Ichigo really, really hoped that he wasn't considered one of those 'Bleachymon'. He had his ability of perfectly normal speech going for him, but who knew how many other weird ideas his brain had come up with.

The brat looked at him like he was insane, which he probably was, but fortunately did as asked. Then his eyes almost bugged out of his head, looking from Ichigo towards whatever the readings said and back towards Ichigo.

The orange-haired teen sighed. "What?"

"Y-you – you are an unknown Ichigo-evolution! And your powerlevel – it's, it's like _500_!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. He should have known that he'd end up as one of those Bleachymon. "So, is 500 good or bad?"

"_Good_?" the brat screeched. "That's like totally awesome! That's stronger than Vaizard-Ichigo and Shinigami-Ichigo put together! Almost as strong as Bankai-Ichigo! No wonder Uryuu couldn't do anything against you! He's only 28!"

_Almost_ as strong as Bankai-Ichigo? Ichigo blinked. Well, he wasn't in Bankai form yet, so maybe…

He deliberately intensified his reiatsu, noting that the two head-creatures in his arms reacted to his spirit pressure like any other underpowered shinigami – they started to sweat and breathe heavily. "What about now? Do I still read at 500?"

The brat's eyes got wider and wider. "No way! 570, 580, and it's still rising!"

Ichigo nodded to himself and stopped projecting. The two head-creatures in his arms seemed very relieved. It seemed that the scanner only sensed his basic power output, not the maximum level.

"Alright. Thanks. Here, they are yours I think." He tossed the two head-creatures towards the brat, who fumbled with his datapad before dropping it and catching the two creatures. "By the way, why didn't you look surprised that I read as a bleachymon? I don't look anything like those chibi-heads, and I can talk normally, unlike those cheap rip-offs."

Ichigo had decided to play along for a while, curious as to what else this crazy dream might reveal. After all, it was nothing more than a dream, and so it wouldn't hurt anyone if he enjoyed the fruits of his over-active imagination. He was just wondering whether there was any kind of logic in this world.

The brat glared at him, temporarily preoccupied with juggling the head-creatures in his arms. "Didn't you hear, you're an _unknown_ bleachymon evolution. And, sure, I've never seen a bleachymon as strange as you, but the higher bleachymon evolutions look quite a bit more human-like than Ichigo and Uryuu here." Suddenly, the little twerp froze and a look of awe crossed his face. "So, does that mean that you're even stronger than Vaizard-Bankai-Ichigo? Are you a," he almost whispered, "a _Legendary_?"

Before Ichigo could protest the brat's conclusions, the kid already went off into a deliriously happy kind of victory-dance that ignored everything around him. "I caught a Legendary, I caught a Legendary!"

"Oi, brat," Ichigo glowered, "you ain't caught nothing! I'm still standing here." That would really take the cake. Especially coming from such a little dweeb with delusions of grandeur.

The Ichigo head-creature chose that exact moment to wriggle free of the brat's grasp and bounce towards Ichigo with a happy squeal of "Ichiiii!" Neither Ichigo nor the brat were very happy about that, Ichigo because the creature was once again back in his arms, and the brat because his Ichigo was gone. Argh, this was getting confusing with all the Ichigos running around. Ichigo was starting to think that it would be better if he went by his last name than his first.

"Oi, Ichigo, come back!" Stomping up to Ichigo, the full-sized one, the brat tried to pluck the head-creature out of Kurosaki's arms. At least he had stopped doing that ridiculous dance-routine.

The brat tried to get the thing back from Kurosaki, but wasn't met with much success. Said disembodied head steadfastly refused to return to its owner, jumping from Kurosaki's arms to his head to his shoulders to avoid being caught. And it chanted "Ichi ichiii!" all the while. It was maddening.

Finally, on the fifth lunge of 'the great Daisuke-sama', Ichigo had enough. Catching the brat by the scruff of his jacket, he hoisted the little dweeb up to eye-level, dangling him from one hand. The brat struggled a bit and screamed for Kurosaki to let him down, but he soon enough got the message and stopped beating against Ichigo's fingers in favor of crossing his arms and pouting. "Give me back my Ichigo!"

Ichigo's eyes almost crossed when the head-creature made a detour into his face, nuzzled his cheek, and then finally, finally, perched on his head. Not that this was much better, but at least it stopped hopping around like an energizer bunny on speed.

"Well, I don't want that thing, either," Ichigo grumbled. "Can't you, like, call it back into your… Bleachyball or something? Like the one you used to call… Uryuu?"

Ichigo still had trouble not laughing out loud every time he saw the Quincy's chibified head scowling up at him from the brat's arms. The expression was just so typically Ishida that it was absolutely hilarious.

To Ichigo's not so great surprise, the brat blushed and looked away. Ichigo sighed. "Let me guess – you were trying to catch it, and it ran off on you?"

No answer, which was an answer all of its own. He sighed. "So, I'm guessing that you've just started out on some kind of training trip to get stronger?"

If this insane world was really influenced that much by Ichigo's horrifying memories of Pokemon, the brat was just about the right age to be sent out into the world with nothing but a weak and unreliable bleachymon, probably that Uryuu-head, to accompany him. When he had watched the series, Ichigo had scoffed at the immature idiocy of the characters. Now though, he was kind of starting to wonder what kind of uncaring parents could just let their kids stumble around the dangers of the big, wide world at the age of _ten_. Nearly the same age as Karin and Yuzu.

The twerp nodded enthusiastically and struck a pose as well as he could still hanging from Ichigo's grip. "Yes! I, the great Daisuke-sama, am going to become the greatest Bleachymon trainer in all of Karakura! Now let me down and give me back my Ichigo!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and slung the kid over his shoulder, letting him dangle down his back right next to Zangetsu's wrapped form. "There's no way I'm going to let an immature little brat like you wander around unsupervised. So, where's the next place to rest? It's getting dark out here, and tomorrow I'm going to take you back to your parents. They must be insane letting someone like you go off on heir own"

"What!?!" the twerp screeched. "You can't do that! Let me DOOOOOWWWWNNNN!"

Ichigo didn't let the volume faze him. "No can do. Now, you either tell me where the next town is, or we're going to spend the night out here without camping gear. Your choice."

Honestly, the kid should do something decent with his life, like studying to get a good job. Not traipsing through wilderness, hoping to become a member of that scant 1 percent who could make a living by training pokemon. Pardon. Bleachymon. At least Ichigo thought that this might be the success rate of pokemon - Bleachymon! - trainers.

When he got showered with the exhaust of a surprisingly potty mouth for a ten-year-old, Ichigo just shrugged and kept walking into the direction the brat had come from. Sooner or later, they'd get somewhere. Ichigo was sure of that.

**

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A/N:** More strange meetings in the next chapter, when Ichigo sees the insanity of the Byakuya festival, which is held every year in Karakura town in spring. Fangirls galore.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning:** Couple of bad words like 'hell' and 'prick'. And insanity galore.

**A/N:** Thank you very much for the awesome reviews. And I'm very sorry that it took me so long to get the second chapter out. But, once again, the warning from the first stands: this is definitely a side project and not very high on my priorities. You might have to wait another seven months for the next one, so don't hold your breath…

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**Chapter 2**

Well, the 'sooner or later' was turning out to be a 'much later' - the sun was touching the horizon and they still hadn't made their way out of that forest. Ichigo was still carrying the little twerp over his shoulder, 'the great Daisuke-sama' was still pouting, and the Ichigo head-creature was snoring softly on top of its namesake's head.

At least the brat was quiet now, after shouting and thrashing for more than an hour because he was getting abducted. The Uryuu head-creature had even tried to poke Ichigo with one of its spiritual chopsticks, to make him let go of the brat. Fortunately, _that_ had stopped very quickly after Ichigo had raised his reiatsu to uncomfortable levels for the two head-creatures. It had been interesting though to see that the brat hadn't felt a thing, when regular humans should have been just as affected as the two… Bleachymon.

Some kind of defense mechanism against high reiryoku?

Then Ichigo chided himself for trying to make sense of a world that he was just dreaming up during a lapse of sanity. Of course there wasn't going to be a plausible explanation for things like that - they'd have to be taken as fact and accepted.

Finally, just when Ichigo was ready to give up and just camp out under a tree for the night, the forest retreated to show rolling hills and, thank the heavens, a village that wasn't too far off. It seemed to be quite busy, with plenty of people crowding brightly lit and decorated streets, and many tents being pitched in the surrounding fields.

"Well, brat, seems that we're lucky tonight. No sleeping on the ground," Ichigo commented.

Roused from his solitary stewing, 'the Great Daisuke-sama' took a look at what Ichigo was pointing to and paled dramatically. "Oh _hell_ no. I don't care what else you're doing, but you're not going to take me there. Over my dead body!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "That can be arranged. That the village you live in? Or did you do something to get the law after you?"

"No! But that's Karakura Town!"

The boy's disgusted shout was loud enough to wake the head-creature nested in Ichigo's hair, and the monstrosity chirped a tired but questioning "Chiii?". Ichigo patted it on the head and it thankfully didn't start its sugar-high bouncing. "What's wrong with Karakura Town?" And, was it coincidence that the village had the very same name as Ichigo's home town?

"'What's wrong', he asks. What's wrong with Karakura Town?" the boy exploded, renewing his struggles with a desperate touch. "I tell you _what's wrong_! They're holding the Sakura Festival right now, that's what's wrong! Now let me go; I'm not coming with you!"

"Sakura Festival?" Ichigo asked curiously. "What's that?"

"Oh, only the biggest Byakuya-appreciation festival in the whole of Karakura!" the brat spat sarcastically. "There's going to be tons of Byakuyas around, and there's no way in hell that I'm going anywhere near them."

"Why not?" Ichigo had a feeling that the answer was going to be good. And thankfully, the boy didn't disappoint.

"'Cause they're _Byakuyas_! They sound gay, they look gay, and they've even got their gay Flowerstorm attack! I mean, what kind of self-respecting male creature throws around _pink Sakura-petals_?"

Not able to hold it in any longer, Ichigo doubled over with laughter. The boy had hit the nail on the head. Ichigo was laughing so hard that he accidentally dislodged the Bleachymon on his head, and it wasn't very happy with him. It bounced around, shouting "Ichi, ichiiii!" in a very chiding manner, and generally made a racket that almost drowned out Ichigo's chortles.

"B-B-Byakuya, gay!" Ichigo dissolved into more laughter, because the boy had said exactly what Ichigo had thought when meeting the stuck-up, overly polished aristocrat.

The brat though seemed to think that Ichigo was laughing at _him_ and scowled. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But the worst of it is that the chicks seem to dig it! There are going to be tons of Byakuya fangirls, squealing and cooing over _every single damn Byakuya there_! It's hell on earth," he lamented piteously.

That made Ichigo laugh even harder, thinking of aloof Byakuya desperately trying to ignore massive amounts of women fawning over him and getting ticked more and more by the minute. "That I've got to see!" He wiped tears from his eyes.

Suddenly, a deep voice interrupted them. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

Ichigo immediately straightened and set down the brat, not protesting when the chibi-Ichigo-creature retreated to its perch on Ichigo's head. The voice turned out to belong to a tall, blond-haired teen about the same age as Ichigo, who had come out of the forest behind them. However, contrary to Ichigo's permanent scowl, the teen's mouth was crooked in a permanent sneer. "An idiot and his baby brother, taking their weakling Bleachymon out for a walk. I challenge you to an all-or-nothing duel: Winner takes it all. Money, food, items. Last Bleachymon standing wins."

"I'm not his baby brother," the brat protested.

"And I'm not an idiot. I'm not a trainer, so go away," Ichigo growled. That dweeb was clearly spoiling for a fight, and there was no way Ichigo was going to give him the satisfaction.

"You're not a trainer?" blondie mused. "Then judging by the two starter Bleachymon, your brother is. How about I challenge the little brat instead?"

"I, the Great Daisuke-sama, accept! Uryuu, I choose you!"

Ichigo face-palmed. That idiot just had to go ahead and do it. Did that brat have no common sense at all? Not only was he accepting a challenge from someone much older and obviously more experienced, but he had already given away any tactical advantage by showing his Bleachymon first. Honestly, he should just sit back and watch Blondie trash the brat. Maybe that would beat some caution into his brain?

Blondie looked a bit surprised, too, but then his smile turned malicious. "This is going to be even easier than I thought. Eye-patch Kenpachi, go!"

"Oh shit!" The brat paled at a rate that left him ghost white even before the electricity from the Bleachyball had finished dissipating.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow, satisfied that the brat finally understood what he had gotten himself into. "What's the problem?"

"The problem?" the twerp screeched in horror. "Oh, only that Eye-patch Kenpachi is one of the most vicious and bloodthirsty Bleachymon, and the second strongest of all the Kenpachi evolutions! It's only topped by Captain Kenpachi, and there are only about fifty of those in the _whole world_!"

"That's right." The blond dweeb sneered. "My Eye-patch Kenpachi is one of the strongest Bleachymon! So, unless you want me to trash all your Bleachymon, hand over everything you've got!"

By now, the electricity was all gone, and Kenpachi's oppressing reiatsu had manifested itself. Both Uryuu and chibi-Ichigo sweated and trembled, completely unable to move due to the pressure. Ichigo though couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Not because of the spiritual pressure - that was downright laughable compared to the real Kenpachi - , but because of the Bleachymon's appearance.

He studied the Eye-patch Kenpachi in front of him, taking in his grotesquely disfigured stature. His head was inflated to about three times its regular size, the eyes much more rounded and taking up a lot more space than they should, and his body was of approximately the same make as a rag-doll - Ichigo was wondering just how good this Kenpachi's grip on his Zanpakutou was when he had neither fingers nor opposable thumbs.

Well, at least this Kenpachi _had_ a body, compared to the head-only state Uryuu and chibi-Ichigo were in. And, Ichigo supposed, if Eye-patch Kenpachi had been a bit taller than hip height, he might have even been somewhat dangerous. As it was, he looked downright laughable with his head three sizes too big for his body. And his serrated sword was proportioned in concert with his head, making it even more grotesquely oversized. Could Kenpachi swing it without falling flat on his nose?

Once again, Ichigo erupted in hearty laughter. If this was his subconsious's way of curing his fear of Zaraki-taichou, then it was definitely working. He'd never be able to look at the captain again without remembering this Eye-patch Kenpachi parody.

The blond dweeb though didn't seem to appreciate his hilarity at all. "What's so funny? My Kenpachi is one of the strongest Bleachymon in the world! That unevolved Uryuu can't do anything against him!"

From the looks of him, the little twerp was close to breaking into tears. He was already sniffling, too scared of that Kenpachi to move. Rather like the Uryuu head-creature.

Ichigo sighed. On the one hand, he should just let things proceed to teach the brat a lesson; thinking before speaking or something like that. On the other hand, he had never been able to stand by when someone insisted on picking on the weak.

Ichigo looked at that arrogant prick with disgust. "And of course, you were expecting that a boy five years younger than you and right at the start of his training journey, that he's got anything better than a starter Bleachymon. You might as well not have bothered with challenging him at all, and robbed him straight-out."

"He always had the option of refusing," blondie sneered self-righteously.

Ichigo scoffed. "And of course you would have just let us go then, without attacking us from behind or anything. Tell that to the marines!"

"Whatever," the blond teen waved off imperiously. "He has accepted, and if he can't put up a worthy opponent, I win by default. Now, how's it going to be?"

Ichigo really hadn't wanted to get involved, but that blond brat was dancing on his last nerve. Not to mention that _his_ brat looked miserable enough that the lesson might have sunk in already.

With a sigh, he picked up the frozen Uryuu head-creature and plucked chibi-Ichigo from his head, and placed them in the brat's arms. "Well, if you want to play it that way, you're going to have to fight _me_."

"You can't interfere in a battle between two trainers! And didn't you say you aren't a trainer? If you're so keen on getting trashed, you're going to have to wait until I'm done with _him_," the arrogant brat sneered.

The 'great Daisuke-sama' though seemed to have caught on, as he looked up to Ichigo in wonder. "Really? You'd do that for me?"

Ichigo snorted and cuffed the twerp lightly on the head. "Of course not. You're only a brat. But someone's going to have to show that idiot over there that it's not nice to pick on little kids."

The blond smirked. "Sorry to tell you, but you've still got to wait your turn!"

Ichigo finally turned around again to face the nuisance, and glowered, "Do I look like someone who makes Bleachymon fight for me?"

The blond looked him up and down and scoffed. "You look like an Ichigo fanatic, or a mental ward escapist. Don't know what that translates into."

Ignoring that, Ichigo continued. "And do I look like I've got any Bleachymon on me?"

"Unless that Ichigo is yours, then no."

Ichigo growled. "Then why the hell do you think I'm going to fight you like a trainer? I'm here to take care of that Kenpachi!"

Blondie sneered. "With what Bleachymon?"

"_I_'m a Bleachymon, you numbnut!"

"Say _what_?"

Finally, that superior air around that blond dweeb dissolved into eye-bulging disbelief. And of course, Daisuke immediately took advantage of it.

"Sure. See what your Bleachydex tells you about him," he cackled gleefully.

Once again, the strange machine identified Ichigo as an unknown Ichigo evolution, and blondie paled when the implications hit him. "You- you can't…"

"Yes, I can," Ichigo repeated icily and stepped forward until he was facing the miniature-Kenpachi, who studied him with narrowed eyes and a wild grin. "I'm a Bleachymon, and I'm with the brat. Let's get on with it."

He deliberately didn't mention that he wasn't registered to the brat's team, because that would disqualify him from fighting. Then again, they were fighting a blind battle, so Blondie was never going to know. And since when had he cared about the rules, anyway?

While the blond brat was still slack-jawed, 'the Great Daisuke-sama' was hopping from foot to foot excitedly and shouting well-meant advice. "Ichigo! Kenpachis have really thick skin, so you need to use a lot of strength if you want to cut him! And his sword can cut nearly anything!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I know. It's not my first time fighting a Kenpachi. Now be quiet and let me do what I came here for." He settled in a ready-stance and smirked at his opponent, that parody of Zaraki-taichou. This was going to be _really_ good. "Well, Kenpachi, are you going to attack or not?"

With a manic grin that was stolen straight from Zaraki-taichou's expression, the Eye-patch chibi rushed at him. "Ken-Ken-Pa-Chi!"

Ichigo answered with an equally tooth-baring grin as he easily parried the low thrust. Kenpachi immediately slid into a flurry of slices and stabs, all of them aimed for Ichigo's mid-section or lower. A few times, Ichigo had to do some hasty foot-work to keep his ankles from getting shredded - their height difference was responsible for the unusual target area - but otherwise, he had little trouble.

Finally, Ichigo had enough and easily jumped over the Kenpachi to get some space between them. He had found out all he needed to know about this Kenpachi's attacks - similar style to Zaraki-taichou, but far less speed and power behind it - , and now it was time to go on the offense.

It was easy work keeping Kenpachi's sword under control, because it was so grossly over-sized. It was nearly as long as Zangetsu whereas Kenpachi was only half as tall as Ichigo. If the sword had been shorter, Kenpachi would have been able to use his small size to his advantage and run beneath Ichigo's guard. As it was, Ichigo could even afford to do some over-head blows because his strike range was about the same as Kenpachi's.

From the background, he could hear the brat calling out some dubious advice, like "Now punch him" or "He's coming at you! Block him!". Did that twerp think he was _helping_ Ichigo with that? The other brat, finally recovered from his surprise, was shouting advice too, but Kenpachi ignored it just like Ichigo did.

Sending the brats an incredulous glare, he continued with his own style and easily overwhelmed Kenpachi's defenses to give him a couple of shallow slices. This time, it was Kenpachi who broke the engagement and jumped out of range, breathing heavily. His smirk though was identical to Zaraki-taichou's when he had found a strong opponent. "Pa-Pa-Chi!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes. There was no way that this chibi-Kenpachi was going to win the fight. "I guess it's futile to tell you that you're hopelessly outmatched."

"Pa-Chi!" the Bleachymon grinned bloodthirstily.

"Yeah, thought so," Ichigo mumbled as he side-stepped Kenpachi's charge and got ready for round three.

And that was when the twerp thought he'd have to get involved again. "Ichigo! Use your Moon Fang Attack now!"

Patience gone, Ichigo rounded on the brat while absently parrying Eye-patch Kenpachi's furious swings with one hand. "Will you shut it, brat! You think you know better how to fight than me? You can't even see half the moves that Kenpachi makes, so where the hell did you get the idea that you know what I'm supposed to do?"

The brat spluttered. "But I'm your trainer!"

Over-inflated ego much? Ichigo growled. "You're my nothing! You're a snot-nosed, ten-year-old wimp with a couple days of experience on the road, and who thinks that that already makes him an expert on fighting! It's a wonder no one's beaten that arrogance out of you yet!"

"Kenpachi! Use Reiryoku Blade Catch to stop his sword, and then go for his legs!" the blond dweeb shouted from behind, apparently trying to take advantage of Ichigo's distraction.

"Ken-Ken!"

Ichigo was close to howling in frustration - not because of the difficulty of the fight, but because of the absolute braindeadness of the two brats. He rounded on the blond one now, chewing him out the same as he had done to his brat. "And you! Yes, you, Mister 'My Kenpachi is one of the strongest Bleachymon in the world' guy! What the hell do you think you're doing, shouting out your tactical advice for everyone to hear? You think I'm deaf or what? If I hadn't caught on to your strategy before, I'd sure as hell know now!"

Well, the guy's face sure was funny to watch, and even the Kenpachi stumbled a bit. Ichigo, who was getting rather fed-up with this insane mockery of a true fight, used that opening to bring down Zangetsu hard on Kenpachi's blade, shattering it into a thousand pieces. On the return swing, he nonchalantly backhanded the surprised Bleachymon into the trees, where it collided heartily with a thick trunk and then slid to the ground. It didn't move again.

Ahhhh. That had felt good, being the one to cut another shinigami's sword instead of constantly getting _his_ cut.

With a satisfied smirk, Ichigo returned Zangetsu to his back and took in the two guys' flabbergasted expression. "What."

"Y-you, you- My Kenpachi!"

Ichigo snorted. "If he's only half as durable as the Kenpachi I know, he's gonna be back on his feet within the hour, by tomorrow at the latest. He's only got a couple of scratches, and maybe a bruised rib or two. And maybe a concussion. But nothing life-threatening. Now scram, unless you want me to puree your other Bleachymon, too."

"And give me all your food and all your money!" 'the Great Daisuke-sama' demanded imperiously.

Ichigo promptly hit him over the head. The arrogance of that little twerp! "I didn't keep him from robbing you only that you can do the same to him! Be grateful that I stopped him in the first place!"

"But-"

"No 'but's!" Ichigo scowled deeply. "Just because he was doing something morally unsound, doesn't mean you should retaliate on the same level. And anyway, if there's anyone allowed to make demands, it should be me! I took care of that Kenpachi after all. Now shut up, we're leaving for Karakura Town before it gets completely dark!"

"But-"

Ichigo cut him off again. "And I don't care if you like the Sakura Festival or not; you're not going to stay outside for the night when you obviously lack even the most basic camping equipment. End of discussion. Move!"

"Yes, Sir," the brat replied meekly and ducked his head when he hurried past Ichigo towards the lights of Karakura Town.

Ichigo followed him, half an ear trained on that blond brat who was watching them leave with narrowed eyes.

The shinigami-turned-Bleachymon sighed. If this world followed the rules of an anime series, this wasn't the last they had seen of the dweeb. He'd bet his non-existent money that Blondie was either going to turn into a rival, or their teammate. Probably both.

And why the hell was he already thinking of the brat and himself as a 'we'?

**

* * *

A/N:** Eh… I'm really very not-good at battle scenes, so I hope you forgive my need to practice. Did I at least manage to keep Ichigo in character? Well, as much as a shinigami-turned-Bleachymon can be called in character.

I probably should ask for forgiveness for Blondie and his sudden appearance, too, because Ichigo and Daisuke absolutely refused to go to Karakura Town in this chapter. However, the next chapter I won't have any excuses anymore, so…

"Byakuya! Flowerstorm attack!" - "Byaku, Byaku-YAAAAAH!"

Sakiku


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Many, many thanks for all those great reviews! I have to admit that, most of the time, I'm simply to lazy to answer to them, but rest assured that I appreciate every single one of them. So, thanks again!

* * *

**Chapter 3**

Well, it was hard, but Ichigo had to admit that the brat had been right: the Sakura Festival was horrific.

Using the last rays of the sun, they had skirted the large tent city to the north of the city, and had approached the houses directly. If he was forced to summarize everything as succinctly as possible, there was only one word he could choose:

Pink.

Pink streamers, pink trees, pink flowers, pink clothes, pink hair ribbons, pink decoration, pink _everything_. Daisuke hadn't said a word since Ichigo had ordered the brat to follow, but his expression spoke volumes. So did his own, Ichigo presumed. Even chibi-Ichigo and chibi-Uryuu were uncommonly silent. Then again, they probably were dead on their non-existent feet from their adventurous day.

"Hello and welcome to Karakura Town! Here is a map with all the locations and times, and I hope you enjoy our Sakura Festival! Have a nice evening!"

From nowhere, a pink-clad young woman appeared, said her spiel, pressed a handful of fliers in Ichigo's hand, and disappeared again. Probably off to scare the next visitor.

Ichigo looked after her and shook his head. Then he handed half the fliers to the brat and told him to make himself useful. "Find us a place to stay."

"I don't need to find a place!" the twerp grunted, apparently still sore from Ichigo's treatment of him earlier with Blondie. "Every moron knows that Bleachymon trainers stay at the Bleachymon Center."

"Well, I'm sad to inform you that I'm not a moron. But since you seem to be – lead the way."

"You so _are_ a moron," the brat grumbled while clutching his Uryuu to his chest.

Ichigo raised an eyebrow. "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

"Thought so."

The further they advanced into the village, the more crowded it got – mainly with pink-clad girls and more or less grumpy Bleachymon. Of which, a great majority were Byakuyas in all stages of evolution. From head-creatures to semi-human renditions whose head was only twice as big as their body should allow. Those wore the white coat Ichigo associated with the Sixth Division Captain, so they probably were the strongest ones.

However, Ichigo thought he could recognize other Bleachymon, too. That one head over there looked suspiciously like Rukia's hairdo from behind. And – was that Yachiru? That pink hair was nearly invisible amongst the pink color explosion going on. About the same size as the fuku-taichou, too, just above knee-height. Including her zanpakutou on training wheels.

Ichigo could only shake his head and ignore all the people doing a double-take at him and asking just where he had gotten such an awesome costume.

In their search for the Bleachymon center, Ichigo and the brat couldn't help but look at the market that had spread all over the village. People sold nearly anything one could think of, provided it was pink: cotton candy, anything with cherry blossom patterns, sweets decorated with pink frosting, meat buns where the dough had been dyed with pink food coloring, pink scarves, pink jewelry, pink nicknacks, pink books, pink clothes, pink _everything_.

Ichigo thought he was going to hurl. The chibi-head nested in his hair seemed of the same opinion, moaning "Chiiiii..." every now and then. Even chibi-Uryuu seemed disgusted.

Then one of the stalls caught Ichigo's attention, because it was a welcome black-and-white relief from all the pinkness. However, upon closer inspection, the reason for the black-and-whiteness was revealed: it sold Byakuya plushies. In all sizes and dimensions, and in all different proportions - from head-creature to about Eye-patch Kenpachi dimensions.

The vendor seemed to spot Ichigo's interest, and immediately tried to catch his attention despite dozens of pink-clad fangirls (and their more or less happy Byakuyas) beleaguering the merchandise. Ichigo just shook his head and stared at the countless scowling (and a few smiling, which was very creepy considering Byakuya's character) plush heads.

But the one that took the complete cake was a line of Shikai- and Bankai-Byakuya-Plushies: the stall keeper demonstrated that upon squeezing them, pink confetti erupt from their mouths. That was just ridiculous – the least they could have done was make it come out of his hands, or better yet, that toothpick sword. If the real Byakuya were dead, he'd be rolling over in his grave!

Well, yes, Byakuya was dead, considering he was a shinigami and all, but Ichigo had meant dead-dead, buried six-feet-under-dead. Not shinigami-dead.

It took them nearly half an hour to make their way to the Bleachymon Center, encountering manifold horrors on their way. One girl especially tried to show off and made her Byakuya do a Flowerstorm attack. And no, the brat hadn't lied about that name. Ichigo had nearly had a heart-attack – letting loose a deadly attack like this with so many people present, could only result in a massacre. After hearing the slightly constipated "Byaku, Byaku-YAAAAAH!", Ichigo had been prepared to ditch the chibi-heads and the brat to protect the crowds, but he was quickly disappointed – or relieved. He didn't know which.

Instead of deadly razor blades, real cherry blossom petals rained down on the fanatically screaming crowd.

In the end, Ichigo just muttered a few profanities beneath his breath and tried to get away from this insanity as quickly as possible. At least all the Bleachymon jumped out of his way, because in his irritation his spiritual pressure must have flared quite a bit. Nonetheless, Ichigo had had to resort to holding on to the brat's scruff to make sure they didn't get separated by the crowds, who for some reason insisted on touching Ichigo and squealing about his outfit. "'So cool! You look like a real Ichigo! Who's your tailor? Did you get your Uryuu to make it for you? Want to go out with me?'"

Ichigo's scowl only sent them into higher frenzies.

Halfway mauled by fangirls, they finally stumbled through the door of the Bleachymon Center into a lobby where an Unohana and a Hanatarou were currently making their rounds. Having seen so many impossible sights that day, Ichigo didn't even do more than blink twice upon seeing the shrunken versions of the two shinigami. Instead, he headed straight for the reception desk and asked for a place to stay.

The receptionist (also pink, the woman, from head to toe dressed in pink clothes – even her eyebrows were dyed pink) looked down at the brat, then smiled sadly at Ichigo. "Oh, I'm so sorry, we only have one free bed left. Putting up your Bleachymon is no problem, but due to the festival, we're a bit short of lodging space."

Ichigo scowled. "Then it's good that I'm a Bleachymon, isn't it? Give the bed to the brat, and show me where to go."

The woman tuttered. "Oh, no, I can't do that. I must commend you on your fabulous costume, you are sure to get a prize at tomorrow's costume contest, but there is a line you need to draw."

"I _am_ a Bleachymon! Take out your Bleachydex and tell me what it reads."

"Yeah, he really is," the brat threw in. Not very helpfully.

Doubtingly, the woman lifted one of the scanners, and 'lo and behold, that one, too, identified Ichigo as an unknown Ichigo-Evolution. "Oh my, oh my! You have to be a really formidable hacker to get the Bleachydexes to recognize you as a Bleachymon! That still doesn't change the fact though that I can't allow you to night with the other Bleachymon."

What in the world was up with that woman? Was it so unusual to have a completely properly proportioned Bleachymon of the same size as a human and who could talk like a human? Sure, chibi-Ichigo and chibi-Uryuu looked like bodiless heads; and that Eye-patch Kenpachi looked like a demented rag-doll. But surely the highest evolutions resembled the original shinigami? Captain Byakuya, after all, had had a head only twice as big as the real one's.

Then Ichigo almost slapped himself. Of _course_ things weren't going to be that easy. Why had he ever thought so?

"Look, Lady," he growled, "this is getting us nowhere. Tell me something that only a Bleachymon can do, and I'll do it."

"Kidou."

Ichigo groaned. "I don't know any kidou. And if I did, it'd probably blow up in my hands 'cause my reiatsu control is worth shit. The only thing I can offer you is a Getsuga Tenshou. And that's a bit over the top, I'd say. I don't want to level the building."

The brat's eyes grew wide. "You're strong enough to level the building? Woah!"

"Yeah, right." The nurse seemed much less convinced. What in the world did it take to make her believe that he was really a Bleachymon?

Then suddenly, Ichigo had an idea. "This thing can measure my powerlevel, can't it? I mean, independent of me being a Bleachymon or not. And it doesn't show anything for humans, does it?"

Giving Ichigo an exasperated glare, the nurse pointed the Bleachydex or whatever it was at him. "Alright, but if it doesn't say ten or more, you're going to leave, alright? You're holding everything up here!"

"Yeah, yeah, do your stuff, Lady, so that we can finally go to bed!" Ichigo grouched and raised his reiatsu a bit so that she'd definitely have something to measure.

She pushed a bright red button that said 'Scan Powerlevel' and looked at the result. She turned pale, looked at her display, at Ichigo, then at her display again. "It- It's _over 9000_!" she gasped.

"Say _what_?" both Ichigo and the brat chorused, together with the other people in the entry hall who had been following their conversation with interest.

Ichigo was quite surprised. The brat had said earlier that Ichigo's normal level was around five-, six-hundred. For him to reach nine-_thousand_ with only a slight raise in reiatsu, that was a bit unbelievable. Just what kind of scale were they using?

The receptionist looked again at her machine and relaxed a bit. "Eh, sorry, my bad. It's over nine _hundred_. Still, that's pretty solid for a Bankai-Ichigo, so I guess you _are_ a Bleachymon." She still looked at him as if she didn't believe what the machine had told her, but at least she switched to the regular hotel spiel. "Well, that means you can stay here for the night. Nurse Freedom will accompany you to your lodgings. Have a nice stay at Karakura Town Bleachymon Center."

"Thanks," Ichigo grumbled, and cuffed the brat behind the ears when he didn't say anything.

With a glare at Ichigo, the little twerp mutter a Thanks of his own, and they followed yet another of those women who all looked the same, wore the same pink clothes, and had the same perky, incredibly annoying attitude of eternal cheer.

She immediately started talking to the brat, completely ignoring Ichigo's presence. "I'll show you to your rooms. Say, you look quite young to have such a strong Ichigo with you. Is he yours?"

Ichigo grit his teeth, but was slightly mollified when the brat threw him a nervous glance.

"Eh… As far as I know he doesn't belong to anyone else. I found both him and the chibi-Ichigo in the forest today, and they've been with me ever since."

The nurse was ecstatic. "Then you've got to be a real prodigy! Only a week, and you've already got half a team! And such a high Ichigo evolution, too!"

The brat practically preened under the praise. "Heh, yeah, I'm the Great Daisuke-sama after all, and I'm going to be the best trainer in all of Karakura! Catching those two Ichigos was the easiest thing in the world!"

Ichigo snorted, finally fed up with the idiotic ego-stroking. "Because you didn't 'catch' us at all, that's why. Now, can we hurry up, I'm tired."

The nurse squealed and clapped her hands happily. "Oh, this is so exciting! A talking Bleachymon!" She turned to the brat with stars in her eyes. "Where did you find such a rarity?"

Getting fed up with the way the woman was ignoring him in favor of the brat, Ichigo scowled heavily. "Oi! He didn't find me, I found _him_! And stop talking as if I was the special edition of some collectible action figure!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" she back-pedaled. "It's just – I'm not used to Bleachymon being able to talk. Sure, it is very well-known that Bleachymon are by far more intelligent than normal animals, but nobody has been able to prove just how much more. Until now, that is. Oh, this is so exciting!"

If Ichigo woke up deaf the next morning from all the squeals he'd had to endure so far, and was still enduring, he was going to kill someone. Or something. "I so don't care, Lady. Get the brat to his bed and me to mine, and then _leave us the hell alone_!"

"O- of course," the nurse stuttered. "You must be tired."

Thankfully, she finally did as asked, and even remained silent. She was still throwing them star-struck glances though, Ichigo especially.

The back of the Bleachymon Center was a lot more spacious than it had looked from the outside. And the upper levels even more so. They dropped off the brat on the third floor, room 323, and then headed downstairs again. Ichigo now had the dubious honor of carrying chibi-Uryuu, too, since it was a Bleachymon, and wasn't allowed to stay with its trainer.

"Is anyone of you injured?" the nurse finally dared ask again, clearly including the two head-creatures in the 'you'.

Ichigo shook his head. "Nah. Just tired from a long and pointless day. A bed, and some chow in the morning is all that's needed."

"Well, if you change your mind, just call for an Unohana. You know, if our Orihime hadn't left us for Las Noches' Bleachymon Center, she would have been delighted to have you here. Especially since you are such a strong Ichigo."

_Las Noches_ had a _Bleachymon Center_? It was all Ichigo could do to keep the hysterical chuckles in his throat. And of course, Orihime had left. Probably with someone called Ulquiorra, too. Or had the Espada become Bleachymon, too? That would be too funny.

"Here we are," Nurse Freedom chirped as she opened one of the many pink – what other color had Ichigo expected? - doors.

Inside the room she revealed, there were countless pillows and futons, many of them already occupied by Bleachymon of all sizes. Ichigo briefly curled his upper lip, then forced himself to thank the nurse. After all, it had been him who had insisted he room with the rest of the Bleachymon.

The nurse didn't seem to catch on to his disgust, since she remained as perky as ever. "You're welcome! Can you ask them if they have everything they need?" She clearly motioned at the two heads in Ichigo's arms.

Ichigo looked at her strangely, but turned towards chibi-Ichigo and chibi-Uryuu who were watching attentively. "Well, you heard the lady. You got everything you need?"

"Ryuuu!"

"Ichi, ichiiii!"

"There you have it."

The nurse blinked curiously. "And what did they say?"

… And just why hadn't he seen that one coming? Ichigo threw his hands up in exasperation. "How the hell should _I_ know? Do I look like I understand that tweeting? Your guess is as good as mine, Lady!"

"Oh…" To Ichigo's horror, she actually started _crying_. "Oh, you're so incredibly brave Ichigo!" she sniffled. "You gave up your whole family, your way of communicating with your whole species, just to be able to talk to your beloved trainer!"

Yet another WTF moment. Ichigo stood there gaping, with absolutely no idea how she had come up with that sob-story just from hearing that Ichigo could understand those Bleachymon creatures just as well as any other human could.

"You know what, Lady, I don't care. Just go do your job and leave me alone, because I'm grumpy and tired, and I'm not looking forward to another day with that brat. Good night."

"Good night, Ichigo," she sobbed and left the room. Chibi-Ichigo and Chibi-Uryuu quickly hopped into the pile of cushions that was off in a corner, and Ichigo took two of the half-sized futons and pulled them together so that he had one full-sized one. Apparently, Bleachymon never came in sizes larger than the half-size Eye-patch Kenpachi, so the Bleachymon Center wasn't equipped to deal with a full-sized human like Ichigo.

Whatever.

His day had been long and insane enough to exhaust a dozen Yachirus on a sugar high, so he didn't really care. He got himself one of the pillows the head-creatures were nested upon, and fell onto his make-shift futon without bothering to take off any clothes or look for a blanket. He was asleep in less than thirty seconds.

* * *

"Issshishishishi-shinnnn!"

Reflexively, Ichigo slapped away the dropkick that had been aimed for the back of his head. He hit something that was sent careening into the next best wall, denting it thoroughly from the sound of it.

Only then did he actually lift his face from his pillow and opened his eyes. He blinked a few times to get used to the low light of early morning, when the sun had barely cleared the horizon. The first thing he saw was a grossly disproportionate caricature of his dad slumped to the floor beneath a large crack in the wall, his eyes swirling comically.

Ichigo groaned and went back to suffocating himself with his pillow. Despite his most insistent wish, he was still caught in this dream world of Pokemon-rejects that pretended to be the people Ichigo knew. Seemed like his father had traumatized him enough that he couldn't even _dream_ of waking up without his patented morning greeting.

When he got out of that insane nightmare, he sure as hell was going to look for psychological help. Having your dad haunt you into your dreams just couldn't be healthy.

"Ichi, ichi?"

He clamped his hands across his ears. And hearing soccerball-sized replications of one's head talking, couldn't be healthy, either.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah, another seven months down the line, and plenty more stories I should rather be working on than this one. Still, an update is an update. At the moment though, my imagination's pretty much exhausted – I've already used all the scenes I've planned when imagining Bleachymon, and my muse is on indefinite strike, as it seems to me at the moment. Nevertheless, reviews might get her going. So tell her what you think, what you want to see, whatever!

Sakiku


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